


After I Do

by EmerySaks7



Category: The Music Man
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmerySaks7/pseuds/EmerySaks7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harold Hill and Marian Paroo have finally married, but during their honeymoon, Marian makes a startling discovery and must decide if she can accept her husband's colorful past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reflections From the Groom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morfiwien Greenleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Morfiwien+Greenleaf).



> _I'd like to take a moment to thank my dear friend and awesome beta, Morfiwien Greenleaf, for her thoughtful editing, comments and suggestions. These stories have benefited tremendously from it, and this author is quite grateful!_

The landscape that rushed by the windows of the train was stark and barren. Winter had placed a firm hand on the Iowa countryside, and banks of snow covered vast crop fields that only months ago had sported hay and corn. Outside, the weather was frigid, but inside the private compartment of the train headed south bound for Des Moines, Harold Hill was quite certain he'd never experienced greater contentment.

He'd always loved the gentle rocking motion of a train as it sped down the rails. Whether he was heading to a new town, filled with novel sights and people for him to discover, or bidding farewell to one he had just plundered, the smells and sounds of the locomotive had always filled him with a sense of wonder. In an odd manner, he'd often felt like he was coming home whenever he ascended the metal steps leading inside the car.

 _Home_.

Harold realized he now had a new definition for the word that had eluded him for so long. A glance down at the blonde tresses spilling against his shoulder elicited a broad smile, and he felt his heart swell with a happiness he never would have believed existed for a reformed scoundrel such as himself.

Earlier that day, when Marian Paroo, standing with him at the altar in River City, had uttered the most beautiful words Harold had ever heard, he'd almost lost his composure in sheer disbelief that the lovely woman next to him was moments away from becoming his wife.

 _Wife_.

He grinned and reflected that there was yet another word in his vocabulary he would never have believed could be associated with him. But now that it was, he couldn't wait for the opportunity to use it.

 _"Let me ask my wife._ "

 _"My wife and I would be delighted._ "

 _"Allow me to introduce you to Marian, my wife._ "

He chuckled softly at the giddiness that swept through him. Who would have ever thought the great Harold Hill would be ruminating over words such as these? Certainly not he.

As a soft noise roused him from his reverie, he peered down to see Marian gently stirring. She had fallen asleep an hour into their trip, and he simply hadn't had the heart to wake her. Although he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and shower her with kisses, he had realized the wisdom in allowing his bride a few moments of rest. While her elation at today's event had been clearly evident, he knew how tirelessly she had worked on the wedding preparations. In the days leading up to the exchanging of their vows, she had gotten very little sleep.

At one point in his life, Harold would have paid little regard to the needs of anyone other than his own and simply swept his partner away in a haze of desire. But ever since Marian had appeared in his life, he had discovered the unparalleled joy of putting another's desires ahead of his. And besides, he reflected with a wry grin, he wanted his wife to get as much rest as she needed. He had specific plans for when they finally reached Des Moines, and he had no shame in admitting they involved very little sleeping.

As Marian stirred in her sleep, her hand crept across his chest and tightened around the lapel of his jacket, burrowing closer to his warmth. Harold was delighted by her unconscious gesture and brought her closer against him.

"Harold?"

The soft question brought a smile to his lips, and he couldn't help his teasing reply.

"Were you expecting someone else, my dear?"

Marian raised her head from his shoulder and looked up into her husband's face. Warm eyes smiled back at her as she shook her head, shedding the last remnants of her nap.

"Of course not," she chided, a touch of embarrassment creeping into her voice.

Harold laughed and covered her hand with his, drawing Marian's attention to where it lay. She blushed when she realized that she must have placed it there while sleeping. When she returned her attention to Harold, she couldn't help but smile in return.

"It seems my subconscious was a bit forward," she observed wryly.

"I didn't mind," Harold assured her with a wink and brought her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss.

As his mouth softly caressed her smooth skin, his attention was drawn to the wedding band nestled snugly against the engagement ring on Marian's finger. The setting sun cascaded through the window and bathed the golden band in a soft halo of light. Glancing back at his own hand, he surveyed the similar band situated there, before returning his gaze to Marian's hand once more. A slow smile bloomed across his features and a soft sigh escaped his lips. Marian, who had been watching the exchange with growing curiosity, shifted beside him.

"Harold?" she tentatively queried.

He turned his head to look at her, and Marian could see the happiness radiating from his rich, brown eyes. Laying her hand back against his chest, he gently laced their fingers together.

"I was thinking about our wedding bands."

"Oh?"

"I never thought I'd see the day when I would have one," he confessed, a look of wonder filling his eyes.

Marian smiled in immediate understanding. "I see."

He glanced again at her wedding band. "And, I never thought there would come a day when I would have the honor to place a golden band onto the hand of the loveliest, intelligent, most charming woman I've ever known."

Marian couldn't help but laugh at his sincere stream of compliments. "Honestly, Harold. All this flattery! You've won the fair maiden's hand."

Harold chuckled and brought her hand to his lips. "Ah, but it's not only the maiden's hand I wanted. I was hoping for her heart, too." At this soft admission, he dropped a gentle kiss against her skin again and raised his eyes to hers. His breath caught as he watched the startled wonder that had glowed there only moments before slowly disappear to be replaced by restrained desire, which began to simmer within the hazel pools he knew so well. Suddenly, he was very grateful for his earlier foresight when he'd insisted on lowering the compartment's shades when they'd first arrived. Marian had questioned him, but he'd merely shrugged and explained with a sly grin, "After all, darling. We are newlyweds."

The blush his words had elicited was delightful, but Harold knew Marian's scandalized look wasn't as sincere as it appeared. His suspicions were confirmed when he'd resumed his place by her side, and she quietly laced her arm through his.

Now, the privacy the shades afforded them was a blessing Harold was only too willing to take advantage. Leaning closer to his wife, he gently captured her mouth with his and was delighted when she eagerly responded to his overtures. Although they had shared a somewhat passionate kiss at the altar (enough so that the Reverend had been required to politely clear his throat in order to get Harold to release his dazed bride), the newlyweds hadn't been afforded an opportunity to do so since then.

The reception immediately following the wedding had seen to that, and then they had scurried to the freight depot to catch the last evening train out of River City. When they'd finally made it to their compartment and secured their belongings, Marian had been giddy with the prospect of her first train ride. Harold had teasingly remarked that they were merely riding the train, not embarking in one of the Wright Brothers' new airplanes.

"This may be old hat to you, Harold," Marian had smiled. "But, it's a new experience for me."

"One of many," he'd agreed, in a soft voice. When Marian turned to look at him, surprised at the gentleness in his tone, she'd found his eyes bright with emotion.

Feeling her own well up with tears of happiness, she had nodded and whispered, "And we have a lifetime ahead of us to discover them together."

At that, Harold had quietly taken her hand and silently reveled in sharing his wife's moment of childlike wonder.

But, that had been two hours ago, and Harold was eager to make up for lost time. During the last five months, his self-control and discipline had been sorely tested, but now that the time was here, he had to remind himself that pacing was essential. As much as he wanted to introduce Marian to all the pleasures that awaited them, it wouldn't do to get carried away on a train. Although the compartment afforded them some semblance of privacy, he didn't imagine his wife would appreciate the inappropriate setting. At least, not once she had come to her senses; because right now, as Harold's lips trailed heated kisses along her pristine neckline, she was anything but reticent to his amorous advances. As his hand smoothed over the soft curve of her hip, he could feel her fingers slide along the edge of his lapel and then firmly wrap around the fabric, pulling him closer to her as she softly whispered words of longing for his ardent kisses.

Harold was all too willing to oblige.


	2. State of the Union

After managing to reign in their ardor on the train (although Harold had taken great delight in listening to Marian's moans as his hands had traversed her smooth curves), the newlywed couple disembarked and made their way to the Hotel Randolph. Harold had kept their destination a surprise, but when Marian saw where they were, her eyes had brightened with barely-contained excitement, and Harold knew he'd chosen wisely. The newly-built hotel was hailed as the only "absolutely fireproof hotel" in the city. Harold, with his penchant for the finer things in life, had decided that a brand-new hotel was the perfect place to celebrate the start of his brand-new beginnings with Marian.

Their hotel room was spacious and elegant. When they entered it, Marian immediately took note of a small chair nestled in front of a lit fireplace. The flickering light bathed the room in a soft hue, and Marian let the warmth envelop her. There was a couch, situated in the middle of the room, and she remarked to Harold that she wondered if it was as comfortable as it looked. He merely shrugged.

"I can't imagine us having much use for that," he quipped, winking at her and then grinning when she furiously blushed at his bold statement. Taking a few moments to divest himself of their luggage, Harold allowed Marian the time to familiarize herself with their accommodations. He knew what lay ahead was new territory for her, but he certainly knew the territory and was determined that she would experience nothing but wonder and delight on their first night together as husband and wife.

When Marian excused herself to retire to the washroom that was connected through an adjoining door, Harold used the opportunity to remove his coat and tie. Unbuttoning his collar, he tugged it open and breathed in relief as the constricting material gave way. He heard the door open behind and turned to his wife, but his greeting died on his lips when he saw her long blonde locks flowing past her shoulders.

Having witnessed such an intimacy with his wife only once before – on the night he had visited her at her home upon his return from the very city in which they were now staying – Harold was momentarily stunned. Marian, noting her husband's temporary speechlessness – a rare occurrence, indeed – walked toward him with a shyness that spoke volumes until she stood before him, her eyes searching his. When he drew her near to him, he felt her tense in his arms; Harold didn't take umbrage at this lukewarm reception. Instead, he merely dipped his head and traced slow, languid kisses along the nape of her neck. As she gradually relaxed in his embrace, he gently reached up and found the first of the many hooks that dotted his wife's wedding gown.

Harold watched Marian's eyes drift shut when his knowledgeable hands slowly began to unhook the fasteners and, as he worked his way down, he allowed them to linger, caressing the lines of her body and learning her shape. When the last of the hooks was finally undone, he coaxed her toward him and nibbled at her lips until they opened beneath his, smiling in satisfaction when her soft sighs broke the silence. When Harold deepened his embrace, gently teasing her, Marian's hands moved of their own volition and sank into his hair, fingernails softly raking across his scalp. He groaned into his wife's mouth at this sensual act and sliding his hands up along her form, he began to slowly untie her corset, his fingers making quick work of the laces there.

Marian was lost in the heady sensations of Harold's delicious caresses and completely unaware of her husband's hands until her corset opened and a warm palm slipped inside to softly close over her breast. Gasping, she stiffened as a sensation she had never known coursed through her. Harold smiled against her lips and languidly trailed a hand along the length of her body until it rested at the small of her back as his other hand continued to lovingly trace the softness he had dreamed about for so long. Marian was oblivious to everything but her husband; when her dress slowly fell to the floor a few moments later, she didn't even notice. But Harold, ever the gentleman, gently retrieved it and placed it along the arm of the couch.

Returning to his flushed bride, he trailed his lips and tongue lazily across her throat and cautiously slipped his hand from her small of her back, moving it lower, eventually sinking his fingers into the luscious skin he found there. He was rewarded for this action by the exquisite sensation of Marian pressing closely against him and moaning his name insistently into his ear.

Impatient, Harold removed her camisole and, finally able to give into fantasies he'd only been able to dream about, brought his lips to the hollow of her throat and slowly worked his way down placing heated kisses along her alabaster skin. For a moment he wondered if he might bring Marian to the brink with that alone as she became more vocal and her cries of pleasure filled the darkened room. Raking her hands through his hair, she insistently pulled him closer to her and whispered his name, confessing things he'd only ever dared to imagine.

Leaning down, Harold scooped his wife into his arms, and met her mouth with his once more as he made his way to their bed. With what he hoped was restraint, and in a manner he prayed was gentle given his current state of mind, he made quick work of her drawers and stockings. For a moment he could only stare at Marian as he was finally allowed to look upon the woman he loved – flushed cheeks, eyes bright with desire, hair tumbling across her shoulders; Harold couldn't believe the vision before his eyes. A fierce possessiveness raced through him as he realized that this lovely creature was his wife and that what they were about to share she'd never shared with another.

With a quick admonition for her to stay put, Harold moved across the room to extinguish the lights save one. When he returned to her side, he made short work of his clothing and lay down on the bed beside her. Even in the near darkness, he could see the furious blush that crept across her cheeks as his gaze traveled along her naked body. He held his breath for a moment, unsure of how she would react to seeing him. When her hand came to tentatively rest across his chest, he was reminded of the afternoon in their bedroom when she had affected a similar gesture, but this time instead of fleeing, she drew her palm across his chest, nails softly scoring his skin as they traveled down to his firm stomach. When Harold groaned, she averted her gaze in mild embarrassment.

Harold, ever mindful of his wife's inexperience, sweetly gathered her in his arms and drew her closer to him. As her smooth skin pressed against his, he realized he had never known such sweet bliss. All thoughts of the women who'd come before Marian fled his mind, and he knew he'd never seek pleasure in another woman's arms. He could feel her heart thudding rapidly beneath his palm, so he quietly whispered words of love, desperate to communicate the longing he felt for her. He brought her to lie beneath him, letting his mouth banish her fears as he slowly worked his way down. When he pressed a series of gentle kisses across the soft skin of her hip, he was rewarded with a breathy sigh.

Marian could sense she was being watched. Opening her eyes, her gaze traveled down to find Harold's eyes trained on her. There was something wholly intimate in knowing her husband was watching her as she moved beneath his loving caresses, and she suddenly realized that mere words would never be able to convey the overwhelming tenderness she felt communicated through his gentle lovemaking. The nervousness that had haunted her when she first contemplated their union slowly faded into eager anticipation as the sensations swirling inside began to build, and in a rare moment of clarity, Marian discovered that she harbored no embarrassment at Harold seeing her displayed before him in such a manner. She felt no shame as Harold's hands continued to play across her body stroking and fondling even as his mouth caressed her in the most delicious ways. She could feel his warm breath as he seductively murmured heated words against her bare flesh, and had she been coherent, she might have been shocked by the desires her husband was confessing to her.

For his part, Harold realized he would never grow tired of watching his wife beneath his skillful touch – eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, gently panting as mounting desire played across her expressive face. He took a certain pride in knowing that he was introducing her to pleasures she had never before experienced and felt honored that he was the man she had chosen. When he brought his hand lower to gently cup her softness, his eyes closed and breath caught when Marian involuntarily arched beneath him as he touched her silky wetness for the first time.

"Harold," she called out in dazed wonder.

Realizing that her cry was one of passion, Harold chose not to respond and instead focused his attentions on the beautiful movements of his wife. As she slowly writhed against him, Harold realized his own restraint was nearing its breaking point and knew that it wouldn't do to wait any longer. So with infinite tenderness, he drew her closer to him and, ever mindful of the pain he knew would inevitably cause, entered her as gently as he could. Her hands instantly came up to clutch at his shoulders and, when she tensed at the sudden discomfort, he reached down to give her a gentle caress, hoping to help ease the pain he knew he had created. Cautiously moving within her, he withdrew, slowly gliding in and back out until she had become accustomed to this new sensation.

As her breathing deepened, she began to press against him and in a few moments, they were moving together, Marian's head flung back as the exquisite pleasure began to build again. Soft gasps and sighs of pleasure soon morphed into moans darkened by passion, and Harold was struck by the knowledge that they were the sweetest sounds he had ever heard. Gritting his teeth as she clenched tightly around him, he suddenly smiled in smug satisfaction as he felt Marian began to writhe beneath him and cry out his name in shuddering gasps.

Marian, caught up in a cacophony of heightened awareness, felt as if she was falling as a flood of sensual bliss she had never known existed suddenly consumed her. Her ecstatic cries tapered off into one long wordless moan when the most incredible sensations coursed through her body, and then all coherent thought fled as she was lost in a maelstrom of ecstasy, oblivious to everything but the pleasure Harold had created.

As Marian wrapped her arms tightly around him and pleaded in desperate whispers, Harold felt his own release come upon him. Tensing, he thrust into her sharply, moaning her name against her throat several times until a final shudder passed through him and he collapsed, his ragged breathing echoing in the darkness.

Silence descended upon the room, broken only by shallow breaths as the two slowly regained their senses. Harold knew this memory would stay with him forever, and he wanted to prolong the moment for as long as possible. As Marian began to stir beneath him, he was startled to feel her hand gently glide up his arm and caress his shoulders before trailing down his back in a loving caress. When he gazed down at her, she raised a hand and tenderly stroked his brow, combing away the disheveled locks that had fallen into his eyes.

Raising himself up on one arm, Harold surveyed the picturesque scene below him. Marian was stretched beneath him, hair splayed about her shoulders, and he was enthralled to see the womanly satisfaction in her gaze. Harold gaped at her in awe, and he knew he would never forget the way she moved beneath him that first time nor the look of breathless wonder that had lit her eyes as he slowly introduced her to the joys of marriage. Contrary to what he had once proclaimed, she wasn't the sadder-but-wiser girl; he didn't know if he could ever express how thankful he was for that.

As he reflected on these things, he couldn't help the self-satisfied smile that broke across his features and Marian, still caught up in the heady bliss of the moment, smiled impishly back at him. Leaning back down, he brought his mouth to hers for a languid kiss and then gathered her back to him, his hand running possessively along her body.

As she nestled her head against the crook of his shoulder, she draped an arm across his chest. "I love you, Harold," she whispered softly.

Harold bestowed a gentle kiss to her temple and replied in a soft voice, "I love you, Marian Paroo Hill."


	3. Subtle Realizations

When Harold Hill woke the next morning, he experienced an uncanny moment of déjà vu: he was lying in a hotel bed, the sounds of the city street below echoing from outside the window. He could feel the warmth of another body nestled snugly against his own, and a delicate hand rested on his bare chest. He smiled as awareness dawned upon him and reached up to cover the small hand with his own. Turning his head, he spied a mass of blonde curls tumbling over a stark white pillowcase. For a minute, he simply gazed at the woman next to him, as he shook off the last vestige of sleep and allowed himself an introspective moment, recalling the wonderful things he had shared with Marian – his wife, he thought gleefully – last night.

A quiet satisfaction coursed through him as he recalled her urgent whispers and ecstatic cries that had echoed through their quiet room the evening before. He vividly remembered the feel of Marian's slim hands clutching at his shoulders as she'd buried her face in the crook of his neck and writhed beneath him. Unable to resist the angelic temptation she presented in slumber, he angled closer and slowly slipped the ivory nightgown from her shoulder, his eyes riveted to the pristine skin that was once again revealed to him. Harold didn't think he would ever tire of gazing upon Marian. Bringing his lips to her collarbone, he traced several tender kisses against her alabaster skin and lazily trailed his fingers along her thigh under the heavy comforter. He watched as she slowly stirred and opened her eyes, startling slightly when she saw him mere inches from her. As comprehension gradually dawned in her eyes and the memories of what had occurred the night before rushed back to her, she blushed a brilliant shade of pink and lowered her gaze. Harold couldn't help but grin: his wife was too adorable.

"Why good morning, Mrs. Hill," he drawled and was delighted at the response it solicited.

Marian shyly brought her eyes back to his, the slight uncertainty there evident, and gave him a hesitant smile. "Good morning, Harold." Her hand clutched tightly at the blanket pressed against her chest.

"Did you sleep well?" he inquired mischievously

"I did, but I'm still so tired," she confessed, a hand reaching up to cover her mouth as a yawn escaped. "I suppose the wedding preparation and ceremony took more out of me than I realized," she admitted sheepishly.

Harold leaned over and tugged on the blanket covering his wife. "Only the wedding?" he teased. When Marian averted her eyes in mild embarrassment, unsure of how to respond to such a brazen comment, Harold felt a pang of guilt wash through him. Although she had willingly surrendered her innocence to him the night before, Marian was still treading unfamiliar territory. Harold reminded himself he would do well to remember that and immediately apologized.

"I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to embarrass you." He brought her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on the inside of her wrist. "A quick retort for any situation: It's served me well for the majority of my life; but perhaps I'd do well to exercise a little restraint from time to time," he acknowledged, trying to ease the awkward tension he'd inadvertently created.

Marian laughed at his observation, and Harold was relieved to see no trace of discomfort in her gaze when their eyes met again.

"It's all right, Harold," she promised him. "It's just … this is all quite new to me. I'm finding this-" she paused, searching for the appropriate word, "new dynamic, a bit unsettling." Searching his gaze, she waited to see if she had explained herself clearly.

"I understand, darling," he assured her and leaned in for a kiss. When he pulled away, he gazed at her, wondering yet again why such an honest woman had chosen him to stand by her side. He was struck with the need to impress upon Marian how much that meant to him, so he moved closer and pressed her hand to his heart.

"Marian, it's not often I find it hard to express myself—" Feeling a lump form in his throat, he suddenly found it difficult to swallow, but he pressed forward, adamant that he communicate just how precious her gift to him truly was. "But, I think you should know how honored I am that you chose me to be the one to share this … to share your life with."

Marian smiled brilliantly at his heartfelt confession and Harold, once again captivated by his wife's loveliness and charming innocence, was momentarily rendered speechless. His breath caught when she raised her hand and lovingly caressed the stubble gracing his chin.

"I love you, Harold," she whispered. Her simple statement washed over him like a soothing balm, and he pressed his cheek into her palm. A shuddering sigh escaped his lips, and he was suddenly quite grateful as Marian allowed him a moment to collect himself, fully aware of the significance of this unguarded moment. When he looked at her again with his usual confidence twinkling in his eyes, she smiled and ran a hand along his cheek.

"Although, I'm not quite sure what to think of this," she teased, arching a brow.

He couldn't help chuckling. "I look this way every morning."

Marian nodded. "Yes, but I've never had the opportunity to see you when you first wake." She blushed at the suggestive implication even as Harold grinned.

"Well, I don't think that will be an issue anymore darling," he informed her, and was delighted to see her smile.

"I should think not!" she retorted in mock annoyance and then laughed when Harold held his up hands in silent surrender.

A few moments passed as husband and wife simply gazed at one another, once again content merely to be in the other's presence, and Harold reflected that he would like nothing more than to stay in bed all day with his lovely bride ensconced in his arms. A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. Well, maybe not in his arms the entire time. He sighed. Although that thought was particularly delightful, it wouldn't do to overwhelm his wife this early in their marriage. He looked forward to the day when they could spend a lazy afternoon in bed, and Marian not question the propriety of it. But now was not that time, and ever mindful of his wife's uncertainties, he smiled and shifted, deliberately putting some distance between himself and the tempting picture she presented.

"What say we greet the day and get tidied up?" Harold suggested, trying to muster the enthusiasm needed to leave Marian and their comfortable surroundings. "Then, I promise to show you all the finest Des Moines has to offer."

Marian languidly stretched her arms along the headboard. "That sounds delightful."

Harold gazed wistfully at his wife as loose curls fell to frame her face. It was a shame they had to leave the warmth of their blankets. She was so beautiful. He was sorely tempted to toss caution to the wind and take Marian in his arms. She wouldn't resist his advances for too long. He was certain of that. But as he watched her study him, the innocent trust she had for him clearly evident in her eyes, Harold was struck with the realization that he had an entire lifetime to explore his love with this bewitching woman who lay next to him. A sense of contentment washed over him. His desires could wait until later.

Pacified by this knowledge, Harold moved to rise from the bed, but stopped when he felt Marian's hand come to rest on his arm. When he looked back at her expectantly, he was amused to see heat rising in her cheeks. She gazed at him for several moments in confused silence. But when her confusion morphed into undisguised longing, it was his turn to experience a familiar warmth flood through his body. Staring into her eyes, he allowed her to see the unabashed desire there and was delighted when Marian's tongue darted out to lick at her suddenly dry lips. That innocent gesture proved to be too much for the newly-married professor to resist. With a grin, he slid back beneath the rumpled sheets and brazenly pulled his wife closer to him.

"I believe the city's finery can wait a bit longer," he murmured seductively before capturing her lips in a heated kiss. When his hands began to trail lower, Marian pressed closer to him, silently agreeing.


	4. Literary Pursuits

After spending a few blissful hours nestled under the covers with her husband, Marian eventually found herself by Harold's side as they strolled out of their hotel in search of a warm meal. The winter air was biting, but she hardly noticed, bundled as she was in her winter coat, scarf wrapped around her neck and gloves securely buttoned at her wrists. As she and her husband ambled along the sidewalk, Marian gazed through storefront windows, marveling at the delightful displays of Christmas pageantry. After watching Harold navigate his ways through winding streets and execute seemingly familiar turns, Marian finally had to give voice to her surprise at his knowledge and obvious familiarity with the city.

He merely winked at her and smiled. "The professor hasn't felt much like doing research since we arrived, but I did plenty of it when I first came here."

His teasing tone wasn't lost on Marian, and she swatted playfully at his arm, recalling a similar comment she had once made to him. But then, she grew quiet as she pondered his playful words. The thought that Harold had specifically sought out points of interest during his visit in October, in anticipation of bringing her there for their honeymoon, was utterly romantic. A warm thrill coursed through her as she was, once again, reminded of her husband's thoughtful and loving nature. Tightening her grasp on his arm, she moved even closer to him and graced him with a beaming smile. Marian was still reeling from the novelty that the handsome man next to her was finally her husband. Even more delightful was the knowledge that they had a lifetime before them to explore together.

Overjoyed and eyes twinkling with delight, she favored him with a speculative smile and slyly asked, "And did the professor happen to research a place where we might find a warm meal?"

She was delighted when her husband smiled and nodded. "Of course, darling! There's a charming little restaurant a few blocks over I thought you'd enjoy. They have the most delicious roast I've ever eaten."

XXX

Harold hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told his wife the food was some of the best he'd ever enjoyed, and considering he had dined throughout the country, that was certainly saying something. He could tell his choice had been correct mere moments after their meals arrived. The expression of delight on Marian's face after she had taken her first bite of their dinner was well worth the two dollars, Harold decided.

A satisfying meal enjoyed over the course of pleasant conversation had been responsible for the contented look that had settled over his features. He knew he must look slightly daft, mooning over his wife as he was, but he simply couldn't help it. Marian Paroo now shared the other half of his name, and the gold band sparkling on her left hand proclaimed that fact to the world.

Harold wanted nothing more than to spoil his wife during their time together. Once the last of their dinner had been eaten, he suggested she indulge in of the restaurant's famed pies. But, Marian politely declined, protesting that she was quite full. After several reassurances by Marian that she couldn't possibly entertain the thought of dessert, Harold escorted her from the restaurant and began to make his way through the city to the surprise he had planned.

He felt a possessive pride as he caught the gazes of several fellow pedestrians glance upon his beautiful bride. He was well aware of the lovely vision Marian presented, and his heart swelled with happiness as he once again reminded himself that the stunning young woman on his arm was his wife. He didn't know if he'd ever become accustomed to the amazing realization that she had given her love to him. He gave a guilty start when he realized Marian had caught him staring and offered her a lopsided grin. The blush that filled her cheeks was absolutely charming, and he made a mental note to inform his wife of that fact when they were afforded a bit more privacy. But for now, he had specific plans, and although they did include hidden corners and recesses, he didn't think his wife would be amenable to searching them out once she discovered where he was taking her. From the shuttered glances she kept directing at him, he could tell he had piqued her interest.

"Harold, where are we going?" she finally questioned him, curiosity evident in her voice.

"It's a surprise," he answered with a cryptic smile.

Marian laughed. "You and your surprises!"

Harold merely smiled in silent response. After a few minutes of winding through various streets and sidewalks, Harold caught sight of the riverbanks. Thick layers of swirling ice blanketed the river, but Harold knew there were rushing currents beneath. The light patches of ice and snow dotted the frozen giant as it snaked beneath the nearby bridges. Glancing at the nearby street sign, he confirmed that they were, indeed, on Locus Street. A moment later, he tugged on his wife's hand and turned to his right, bringing her to a halt in front of a massive brick building. Windows dotted the three stories of the classically-designed structure, with a symmetrical stairway leading from both sides of the sidewalk up to the entry portico through four evenly-spaced ionic columns. Harold had been impressed when he'd first found the building, and he'd hoped Marian would be, as well. He watched expectantly as she looked up at the lettering etched on the large overhead entry that proclaimed "Des Moines Public Library" and grinned when her eyes lit up in excitement. Harold laughed, pleased to realize he'd made the right choice in bringing her here. When she turned to look at him, he eyed her with amused affection.

"I thought you might enjoy browsing the competition," he teased and began escorting her up the stairs.

She laughed and lightly swatted his arm. "Honestly, Harold! They're not the competition."

Harold merely shrugged. "Perhaps you can see what they're carrying in their collection and get some ideas for yours."

Marian nodded. "I would love to see how they've implemented the new Dewey Decimal system." Then, as if realizing something, she frowned at him. "But surely you don't want to spend our honeymoon here browsing through a library."

Harold smiled at her fondly. "Darling, I may not be as voracious a reader as you, but I do enjoy finding new books, and I know how keen you've been to peruse their catalog! Besides," he leaned in closer, "libraries have been rather good to me." He made a grand show of patting at his jacket pockets. "However, I do seem to have forgotten my marshmallows." He winked at her and smirked flirtatiously. Marian felt her cheeks crimson at his bold statement.

"You're incorrigible, Harold Hill," she finally managed to scold when she found her voice again, but the fondness in her eyes belied her words.

A tender expression stole across his features and he paused at the doorway, pulling her closer. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, Marian," he confessed, a hint of disbelief coloring his voice. "But, I love you. More than you'll ever know." He fell silent and waited as his wife's earnest gaze searched his. A moment later, he felt her hand come to gently rest against his cheek, and she smiled tenderly.

"I love you, too, Harold."

Her simple statement warmed his heart, and he found himself suddenly grinning. Taking her hand in his, he opened the door and ushered her inside. "What say we find you some new titles, my dear?"

Marian graced him with an affectionate smile and allowed him to lead her through the grand entryway and down the stairs to the main counter.


	5. Afternoon Delights

After many assurances from Harold that he would be content to wander about the large building and investigate its selections on music theory, Marian happily settled herself in the reference section and began taking notes on various titles she eventually wanted to add to River City's collection. By the time she glanced at the clock on the far wall, she realized it had been well over two hours since her husband had deposited her at the card catalog with an admonition for her to not worry about him and simply enjoy herself. Embarrassed at losing track of time and surprised that Harold had not made at least a cursory appearance by now, the chagrined librarian quickly gathered her belongings together and made her way to the main entrance. Earlier, Harold had informed her she could find him there reading whenever she had finished her research. But when she stepped into the large entryway, her charming husband was nowhere to be found.

Marian traversed the spacious room, taking care to inspect the few recesses where he might possibly be ensconced, hidden from her view, but the effort proved fruitless. Harold was not there. Wondering if he might have stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, she made her way through the large doors and was startled to observe him bounding up the stairway, flecks of snow clinging to the hair that peeked out from beneath his hat and his cheeks rosy from exposure to the biting winter air. Somewhat shocked to discover he had left the library while she was lost in her research, Marian glanced at him with evident surprise.

"Harold! I thought you were going to research music theory and read in the main entry?" A questioning tone colored her statement. She pulled her coat tightly to her and stepped closer to her husband.

Harold simply shrugged and gave her a cryptic smile. "I had an errand I needed to attend to."

"An errand?" she questioned curiously.

"An errand," Harold confirmed.

She gazed expectantly at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but in a departure from his usually effusive nature, he said nothing.

"Aren't you going to tell me?" she finally asked with a laugh.

"No," he smiled broadly. "Not this time."

Marian looked at him, startled, and he began to laugh as amazement spread across her features at his refusal to divulge any information.

"You, my dear little librarian, are far too curious," he chided good naturedly, even as he reached out to curl his gloved fingers around her mittened hand.

A dull blush suffused her cheeks at her husband's teasing rebuke, and she dipped her head in mild embarrassment. But when she felt's Harold hand reassuringly squeeze hers in his own, she acknowledged the truth in his statement with a rueful laugh and allowed him to lead her along the winding city streets until the familiar façade of their hotel came into view once more.

The winter chill nipped at their heels as he ushered her inside, and she was grateful for the warmth which greeted them when they stepped inside the front lobby. A glowing fire crackled in the main lounge area situated on the far side, and Marian gazed at it longingly. She turned at the sound of Harold's soft laughter and glanced at him with questioning eyes.

"Don't even consider it, Madam Librarian," he admonished with a teasing smile. At her confused look, he gestured toward the lobby. "The fireplace," he elaborated. "I saw you eyeing it."

Marian smiled at him with an amused glint in her eye. "I don't know what you're talking about, Professor Hill," she innocently protested and then giggled at the disbelieving look he bestowed upon her. "Honestly Harold, I merely glanced at it," she insisted even as she peeked at it once again. "But," she admitted with a mischievous smile, "it does look inviting."

"I knew it!" her husband exclaimed triumphantly. She watched in amusement as Harold pursed his lips and cocked his head in an exaggerated manner while pretending to give her idea careful consideration. "Now why ever would you want to stay down here, when there's a perfectly good fireplace in our room upstairs?" he questioned playfully.

Marian nodded her agreement. "That is true, but it doesn't preclude us from enjoying this one too, does it?"

"Of course not, darling," Harold capitulated. "But this one lacks something ours does not," he confided moving closer to her.

Marian's brow furrowed in confusion even as her heart sped up at her husband's nearness. "And what might that be?"

Harold reached down and tucked her arm through his, drawing her near enough so that his lips brushed her ears as he whispered, "A nice, warm inviting bed."

Marian felt her cheeks immediately crimson, even as her stomach simultaneously gave a queer flip flop, and she couldn't contain the soft gasp of surprise that escaped her lips at her husband's suggestive statement. Uncertain as to how to respond to such a bold invitation, she lowered her eyes and issued a gentle rebuke.

"Harold, we're in public," she softly scolded.

She was not surprised when he gave a light chuckle and began to guide her to the stairway that would lead them to their room.

"That we are, my dear," he blithely agreed, seemingly oblivious to her consternation. "But if you'll allow me to escort you upstairs, I can remedy that."

Eyes swiftly rising to meet his at such an audacious statement, Marian's reprimand died on her lips as she was instantly mesmerized by Harold's alluring smile. Try as she might, she could not deny her husband's appealing charisma and seemingly effortless ability to charm her with his silver tongue and seductive tone. And suddenly finding she lacked the desire to do so, she allowed him to lead her up the stairwell without further protest.

XXX

Harold was enthralled with the heated glances Marian kept directing at him as he escorted her to their room. Lunch had been delightful and the expression of sheer amazement on his wife's face when they arrived at the library had quickly found status as one of his favorite memories. Her desire to peruse the library's catalog afforded him the perfect opportunity to slip away unnoticed and take advantage of an idea that had formed during their window shopping earlier that morning.

He'd been somewhat startled to discover her exiting the library upon his arrival, but the sight of Marian bundled in her winter coat, mittened hands clutching at her scarf even as tendrils of her hair danced in the cool air had been a delicious treat. He'd immediately decided to surprise her with the gift later, as the only thought that now occupied his mind was how swiftly he could escort his wife back to the hotel. Visions of her settled between the soft sheets and quilted layers of their bed as his body covered hers danced through his thoughts, and he'd had to resist the urge to break into a run.

Now, as they made their way upstairs as swiftly as they could without drawing too much attention, Harold felt his pulse quicken as he contemplated the bliss that lay in store. Four months of waiting to make Marian his wife had been excruciating. Although he was well schooled in the art of patience, never before had it been necessary to delay the carnal satisfactions of his cons. With Marian, though, it was not only required, but to him, it was vital that he not indulge in any impropriety with the woman he loved. When he was finally allowed to demonstrate the true depths of his love and passion for her, he wanted Marian to know only happiness. He would not allow her experience to be colored by a sense of regret, and especially not because of any indiscretion caused by his inability to exercise restraint.

But now that he was able to openly express the love and affection he had for his wife, he was discovering his appetite for Marian was quite insatiable. He was certain that he'd never grow tired of seeing the captivating smile that had greeted him this morning or listening to the sounds of her passion as his wife moved beneath him. With this thought in mind, he rapidly produced the key to their room and raised it to the keyhole, eager to unlock the door and usher her inside. However, Harold momentarily fumbled the key when Marian stepped closer to him. Her perfume, which had driven him to distraction many times while they were courting, did so once more as it lightly wrapped around his senses, enveloping him in a haze of memories. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply and released a shuddering sigh. He would forever associate that scent with the night he had willingly shut the door on his former life. He found it oddly fitting that the memory should revisit him as he was opening the door to a new one.

He knew Marian had heard him when he felt her hand alight on his arm and her voice question him with gentle concern. Turning around, he met her searching gaze with honest eyes and lifted the corners of his mouth in a self-deprecating smile.

"I find myself lapsing into memories, darling," he admitted with an uncharacteristic honesty.

Marian's gazed at him for a quiet moment, and he could see the questions dancing behind her eyes. But to his surprise, instead of satisfying her curiosity, she merely leaned forward and placed the gentlest of kisses against his lips. Startled at such an uncharacteristic public display of affection, he could only stare at her in stunned amazement for a few silent moments. When he was once again able to recover his thoughts, a wide grin split his face and he turned back to the keyhole, easily sliding the key in place. A satisfying click was heard as the door unlocked and opened to their room.

Giving his wife a devilish grin, Harold slid an arm around her waist and pulled her against him as he sauntered backwards through the doorway, Marian's laughter echoing down the hall as they went. As he nudged the door shut with his foot, Harold swept his wife up in arms and brought his mouth to hers, eager to transform her delighted laughter into delicious moans.


	6. An Unexpected Encounter

As Marian Paroo Hill glanced up from smoothing back a tendril of honey-blonde hair, she caught her husband's heated gaze watching her in the mirror yet again. They had finally roused themselves from the comfortable warmth of their bed after waking from a contented slumber, and even though it had been difficult – especially with Harold's persuasive kisses – she'd insisted they keep their dinner reservations. She had experienced a mild trace of annoyance when Harold emerged from the washroom less than 15 minutes later, dapperly dressed and ready to depart while she still had to finish arranging her chignon. But, it had instantly vanished when she discovered him studying her as she readied herself. Feeling a warm blush suffuse her cheeks as his eyes wandered along her form and lingered just below her waist, Marian was willing to confess her husband's longing looks were sorely tempting. Perhaps it wouldn't be so inappropriate to dismiss their dinner plans and spend the evening wrapped in his loving embrace.

Fortunately, Harold chose that moment to inspect a string on his jacket sleeve, and the small reprieve allowed Marian the opportunity to fortify her resolve and escape his mesmerizing gaze. Exhaling deeply, she stepped to the rack near the door and reached for her motor coat. Her hand had just closed around the black wool when she felt Harold's arms snake around her waist. Startled, she gave a small gasp which transformed into laughter when Harold affectionately pressed his lips against her upswept hair; however her laughter quickly died away when his hands gently traced upward along her sides and, coming to rest lightly near her breasts as if by mere happenstance, began to tenderly stroke her soft curves. When his hands moved forward in a more overt caress, Marian couldn't suppress the moan that escaped her. Shivering at the pleasant sensations that began churning deep within her, she melted into his embrace, swaying against him as his hands lovingly caressed her.

"We'll miss our dinner reservations if you insist on continuing this, Professor Hill," she murmured, even as she tilted her head to allow Harold access to her neck as he coaxed her closer to him.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she felt her husband's lips trail soft kisses along her skin. "Mmm, possibly," he allowed between kisses. "But I find myself unable to stop, Madam Librarian." His hand languidly traveled down her form before coming to rest possessively on her hip.

Marian knew if she didn't put a halt to her husband's persuasive touch, they would both spend the remainder of the evening ensconced beneath the covers of their comfortable bed. Although the idea had merit, Marian realized the practicality of a warm meal and enjoying the amenities Des Moines had to offer. Besides, she reasoned, nothing said she and Harold couldn't return to the hotel after a brief repast.

With a sigh of regret, she brought her hands to Harold's and tenderly removed them as she turned in his arms. She fought the urge to laugh at the forlorn look that greeted her. "Darling, we need to go if we don't want to miss our reservation," she gently reminded him.

Harold gazed at her with undisguised longing, but eventually nodded his head in agreement and laced his fingers through hers. "Shall we, then?" he asked and gestured toward the door.

"Don't you think you might want a coat, dear?" Marian smiled and then laughed at Harold's expression of utter surprise when he realized he was still clad only in his suit jacket.

At his wife's amused laughter, Harold gave her a playful scowl and wagged a finger at her. "This is entirely your fault, Madam Librarian. If you weren't so irresistible …"

His words trailed away as Marian raised a hand and fondly cupped her husband's cheek. Drawing closer, she placed a tender kiss against his lips and then pulled away. "You can scold me later, darling." A sly smile crept across her face, and she stepped away. "And I promise to be thoroughly repentant," she promised and giving him a saucy wink, she breezed through the door, leaving Harold behind to gape at her in bemused shock.

XXX

As Harold perused the artwork decorating the lobby wall, he reflected he could easily become accustomed to waiting for Marian if it was precipitated by the pleasant afternoon he'd just enjoyed. He had been shocked by Marian's bold promise as they left their room and had a sneaking suspicion she took secret pleasure in knocking him off balance; however, her glory had been short lived when she realized she'd left her gloves in their room. With a sheepish smile, she'd apologized and promised to only be a moment, before scampering upstairs to retrieve them. Harold chuckled aloud as he watched her leave – she really was too charming – and then set about exploring the various paintings.

He passed several prints before stopping to admire a watercolor he vaguely recognized. Leaning down, he read the inscribed plate beneath it. "Summertime" by Mary Cassat. He nodded at the familiar name. Although he was by no means a connoisseur, his travels had afforded him the opportunity to educate himself about and learn to appreciate the finer things in life. This particular piece depicted an idyllic afternoon, and he briefly wondered if Marian might find such a work desirable for the library or even their home.

Reminded of his wife, he reached into his pocket to retrieve his watch. Their dinner reservation was for 7:30, and he'd hoped to arrive early to ensure their prompt seating. He briefly wondered what was taking Marian so long.

"Gregory!" a woman's voice called from the other side of the room.

Paying this distraction no mind, he flipped the cover open and glanced at the time. 7:15. He'd give Marian five more minutes before going back upstairs. No need to tempt fate by allowing himself to be alone with his wife again. They might not make it down if he did. With a laugh, he shut the cover and returned the watch to his pocket.

"Gregory!" Something about the voice was suddenly familiar and Harold felt a trickle of apprehension.

It took him a moment to realize that "Gregory" was being directed at him, but as it registered he turned to spy a woman near his age walking toward him across the hotel lobby. Her dark brunette hair was coifed elegantly atop her head, and she wore an extravagant gown that Harold knew must have been a costly purchase. The large diamond ring and necklace silently yet ostentatiously spoke of wealth.

As she drew closer, he recognized who was speaking and immediately experienced a nervous shudder as the acquaintance from his past approached him. But ever the charmer, he conjured his most winning smile and extended his hands toward her in a welcoming gesture.

"Constance! Constance Baker!" The surprised etched across his features spoke volumes. "Imagine meeting you here!" Harold hoped his voice conveyed genuine warmth and not the shock he was currently experiencing.

Gregory!" she smiled and clasped her hands in his. "It _is_ you! I almost didn't believe my eyes when I looked up and saw you standing there." She gazed at him with obvious affection. "I never thought I'd see you in Des Moines, Iowa of all places. I thought you were too smart to try your tricks on these people," she whispered as she leaned in and placed a warm kiss on his cheek.

Harold smiled politely, but took a slight step back in an effort to place some distance between them. He turned his head, scanning the stairwell for Marian. It wouldn't do for her to see him with Constance. That was an explanation he felt would be best left for after their honeymoon. Fortunately, his wife was nowhere in sight. Satisfied that Marian was still occupied upstairs, he turned back to his unexpected company and gave her a genial grin.

"Constance, I can't even begin to tell you how surprised I am to see you here," he confessed in utter honesty.

Constance regarded him with surprised eyes. "You? At a loss for words? I can scarcely believe it," she chuckled.

Harold smiled ruefully. "I've changed. That life is behind me." He watched Constance's gaze flit down to the gold band that encircled his finger, and her eyes widened in disbelief.

"Is that a wedding band" she asked incredulously.

Harold nodded. "Indeed, it is."

Constance shook her head in amazement. "Gregory … married," she whispered in muted awe. "I never thought I'd see the day." She gazed at him in frank curiosity. "What does your wife think about your … means of employment?"

Harold let out a nervous laugh and cleared his throat even as he scanned the room fervently hoping no one had overheard her comment. He was relieved to note no one else was in the lobby.

"Yes well … I'm not in that business anymore."

Once again, her eyes widened. "You've gone the straight and narrow? Gregory? The man who once claimed he'd never stop until he'd fleeced them all?"

"That was the old me," Harold shrugged.

Constance laughed reproachfully. "That was two years ago!"

Harold smiled, and he couldn't keep the happiness from glowing in his eyes. "A lifetime ago."

Constance studied him with suddenly serious eyes and then nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I can see that."

Harold was pleased to hear the sincerity in her voice. Taking her hands in genuine friendliness, he felt himself becoming more at ease with her and couldn't help the teasing note that crept into his voice. "And what about you?" he questioned, nodding his head at her finery. "You seem to be doing quite well."

A low chuckle escaped her lips, and she nodded in agreement. "My husband is rather good to me."

"Husband?" Now, it was Harold's turn to be amazed. "You? The woman who once said she'd never settle for any man?"

At that, Constance laughed – a rich, full sound. "I didn't. I settled for a man who can give me the lifestyle I'm accustomed to."

"So I see," Harold grinned.

Constance leaned closer. "Money is no object to Lionel," she smiled. "And that was something you had occasionally possessed, but not enough for me."

"The lady speaks truth," he agreed with a rueful smile.

XXX

Marian Paroo Hill hurried down the stairs, silently scolding herself for forgetting her gloves. Finding them had taken longer than she'd expected. Knowing Harold had made reservations for 7:30, she quickly descended the first flight of stairs, eager to reach her husband and be on their way. But what she saw made her halt at the landing and quickly slide into the shadows. Harold's back was to her, but she could see his hands clasping those of a very well-to-do woman. Marian felt a surge of curiosity sweep through her. The older woman obviously knew Harold well enough for him to take such familiarity with her, but the librarian's sense of curiosity began to fade as she listened to Harold's conversation and realized this was an acquaintance he had known before he came to River City. An uneasy sense of dread crept over her as she heard Harold agree with the woman before him and realized she had once been involved with her husband at some point in the past.

"But," Marian heard the woman continue, "He will never be a match for your other talents." She emphasized the word with a suggestive look, her tone clearly conveying what her words could not. She raised a hand and gently cupped Harold's cheek.

Marian saw Harold flinch, ever so slightly, but he didn't pull away from her touch.

XXX

Harold was taken aback by Constance's provocative statement and even more so by her bold actions, but before he could say or do anything, Constance drew nearer and planted a tender kiss on his lips. When she pulled away, she wore a satisfied smile.

"I'm so glad we got to see one another, Gregory. Our moments together might have been a lifetime ago, but I know I'll never forget them."

With that, she turned and sashayed back to the lounge where the sounds of music and laughter spilled out in the foyer. He watched her go, still quite in shock at the public display of affection she had bestowed upon him. Fortunately, he was relieved to see the lobby still empty, saving him from what would have undoubtedly been an awkward situation to try to explain.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Harold shook his head in amazement. Of all the people he could've met in Des Moines, he never would have expected to see Constance. With a start, he realized she had never given her married name. He chuckled to himself. It was just like Constance to divulge only what she believed necessary. During their time together, she had been well schooled in keeping personal matters private. Brash and headstrong, she had been a rather enjoyable companion in his former life, and he would probably have continued to keep her company had he not stayed in River City. But as he'd told her, that was a lifetime ago, and he'd been a different man. Harold felt a wave of strong affection for his dear librarian wash over him. She had changed him. Had changed everything. And for the better.

He was suddenly quite thankful Marian hadn't been there to witness the exchange. He didn't quite know how he would have explained Constance to his wife. Grateful to have avoided such a confrontation, he turned but felt his relief rapidly dissipate at the sight that greeted him: Marian stood on the landing behind him, her hazel eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. Her face, which had been a portrait of joy when she left him waiting in the lobby, was now pale, bereft of any color.

XXX

Marian stood staring at her husband as she watched him turn toward her. When his eyes met hers, the large grin he was wearing faded into a look of startled shock and then dismay. She felt the hot tears filling her eyes and was helpless to stop them from splashing down her cheeks. Suddenly, she found herself incapable of coherent thought. Spinning on her heel, she blindly made her way up the stairs, climbing the wooden planks as fast as her shoes would allow.

She heard Harold's desperate cry of "Marian!" but didn't stop. A moment later, footsteps clattered behind her and she felt the strong grip of her husband's fingers closing around her arm.

"Marian! Wait, please! I can explain," he pleaded, drawing her close to him.

Blinded by hurt and embarrassment, Marian coldly responded, "Remove your hands, Harold."

She could tell Harold was startled by the icy anger in her voice, because he took a step back, releasing her arm as he did so. She'd never taken that tone of voice with him. Not even when she had been determined to expose him for the fraud he was when he first came to River City.

"Marian," he tried again, softer this time and infinitely more cautious. "It's not what it looks like," he promised. "I know Constance from … before."

Marian's mouth set into a hard line. "So I gathered," she seethed. As she gazed at him with anguished eyes, he merely stood there. Though he was quietly waiting to see what she would do next, she knew he was struggling, obviously uncertain how to respond to her heated words. His silence unnerved her.

Marian knew she should offer him a chance to explain, but she wasn't ready to hear his reasons. Seeing her husband with another woman – one closer to his own age, not to mention elegant and beautiful – brought back every insecurity she'd ever experienced regarding Harold.

Without conscious thought, words tumbled, unbidden, from her lips and her shoulders shook with barely-restrained fury.

"What we experienced last night," she whispered. "How could you … with someone like that … and share it with me …" her voice gave out, unable to continue. Crestfallen, she watched as a thousand answers danced behind his eyes, but he finally shook his head, unable to give her the assurance she was desperately seeking.

Marian hated the tears she felt welling in her eyes, but couldn't stop them. An anguished look passed across her countenance, and with a sob, she turned from him and shut the door solidly behind her.

XXX

Harold stared in stunned silence at the door Marian had firmly closed only seconds before. The absurdity of the situation – his wife tossing him out of his own room the day after they were married – was not lost on him, but at the moment, the entire incident seemed too surreal for him to fathom.

He wandered back down to the lobby in dazed disbelief, only marginally aware of the relief he felt that no one had been around to witness his first marital blunder. The boisterous music still floated from the lounge, but that was the last place he wanted to visit. Constance would most likely still be there, and the last thing he needed was for Marian to come downstairs and find him in her company. Besides, knowing smirks and judgmental glances were sure to be cast his way if he appeared without Marian, and he didn't think he could muster the energy to deal with any more mishaps.

Drawing his coat tightly around him, Harold gave a defeated sigh and exited the hotel, intent on seeking a spot he could find a warm drink and privacy as he silently contemplated how to reconcile with his bride.

XXX

It was several hours later when Harold finally returned to the Hotel Randolph. Darkness had long ago fallen, and the evening crowd had diminished as the cold chill of the winter night crept over the city. Harold was suddenly very grateful for the bourbon he'd nursed as he ruminated over the evening's earlier events. Although he had never been one to overindulge, every now and then, even the great Professor Harold Hill was not above extolling the virtues of a stout Kentucky bourbon. And tonight, as he nervously ascended the staircase to his room, he was willing to acknowledge the need to fortify himself for the difficult conversation he knew was sure to follow once he returned to Marian. As he stood outside their door, gathering his resolve, Harold could only hope Marian would be receptive to what he had to say. Taking a deep breath, he tentatively placed his hand on the doorknob and was gratified to feel it turn within his grasp. She hadn't locked him out. At least there was that.

The room was dark save for a single lamp lit in the far corner – the one he had left burning last night when he had taken his wife to their marriage bed, the night he was finally able to truly express the love and desire he felt for her. A sharp pain lanced through Harold's heart as he realized how deeply he had hurt Marian today. It had been unintentional, but he had still been the reason she'd experienced such anguish. The actions of his past had once again caught up to him. Reap what you sow, he thought ruefully. Harold wouldn't have cared if his actions had only affected him, but his recklessness and abandon had caused his wife pain – the one thing he never wanted to do.

As Harold's eyes adjusted to their dimly-lit room, he shut the door behind him, carefully guiding it closed until he heard a soft click. He could see Marian's outline on the bed near the window and, as she shifted, a shaft of moonlight framed her face, illuminating the pale skin of her neck. Harold felt his body tighten at the familiar sight of her. After experiencing an intimacy with her that had both surprised him and surpassed his wildest expectations, he knew he could never be with another woman. It wasn't simply the physical. Not with Marian. With her, it was so much more. If only she would let him explain. He sighed, but tried to remain optimistic. She hadn't locked him out of the room. That was a promising sign, and she was still going to allow him in their bed. Harold smiled. He didn't want to sidestep the situation, but he wasn't above acknowledging the wisdom in perhaps trying to soften his wife's mindset with a few heated caresses before settling down to discuss what had happened.

Grinning with renewed confidence, he moved closer, only to wince in pain a moment later when his knee caught the edge of the couch. Annoyed, he glanced down at the offending object and felt a cold shudder pass through him. There, neatly stacked in the middle of sofa, lay his nightclothes, two blankets and a pillow.

The grin faded from Harold's features, and he looked back to where Marian lay sleeping. No, she hadn't locked him out of their room. She was too kind to do something like that. But she had told him, in no uncertain terms, just where he stood with her.

During their courtship, Harold had quickly learned how far he could push boundaries with Marian Paroo. He had a sinking feeling that this evening he'd been given a lesson in the boundaries of Marian Paroo _Hill_. Harold sighed, and his shoulders slumped.

The couch was going to be an awfully lonely place tonight.


	7. Revelations

Darkness still blanketed the city when the muted rumble of a motorcar from the pavement below roused Marian from her early morning slumber. As awareness gradually dawned, she turned her head to greet her husband and was momentarily surprised when she spied an empty pillow and smooth sheet next to her. Harold had obviously not slept in their bed last night. As events of the evening before rushed back to her, she shut her eyes in a futile attempt to block the unpleasant memories. But, it was no use. Marian could vividly recall the blinding hurt that coursed through her when she had discovered Harold with another woman. She also couldn't forget the look of shock on his face when he realized she had witnessed their exchange.

With a shuddering sigh, Marian leaned back against the headboard and reopened her eyes, allowing them to adjust to the dim lighting. Glancing around the room, she was startled to see a blanketed form huddled on the couch. Marian experienced a fleeting pang of guilt as she recalled her chilly response to her husband's heartfelt plea the night before and the cold resolve in which she had placed his bedclothes on the couch before she retired. Her heart constricted as she realized Harold had indeed spent the evening in their room, but not alongside her. A soft voice in the back of her mind told her it was ridiculous to exile her husband to the couch on their second night as man and wife, but a louder voice – the one still reeling from the shock and pain of seeing him with a woman from his past – was advocating cautious restraint and urging her to seriously consider her next course of action. Marian was still at a loss as to what to do, but for now, she knew she needed time away from Harold. Right now, her wound was still too raw. She knew she loved her husband – of that she had no doubt – but she deemed it best to put some distance between them today, lest she say something she regret.

Rising from the bed, Marian quietly crept to the washroom and engaged in her morning routine. When she emerged several minutes later, she was pleased to note she felt quite refreshed. Taking care as to not wake her husband, she moved about the room, restoring the bed to its proper state and changing from her nightclothes to a warm dress. After spending another moment before the large mirror arranging her hair underneath the small taffeta hat she had chosen, Marian nodded in satisfaction. Considering she planned on doing quite a bit of walking while thinking, practicality was the ruling factor in her wardrobe today; however, Marian had always been one to take careful care with her appearance, so it behooved her to maintain some semblance of fashion. Her woolen motor coat would ensure she'd stay warm on what would most likely prove to be a chilly winter day, and her new hat – with a sharp stab of pain, she remembered it had been a gift from Harold on their four-month anniversary – would lend an air of elegance to her ensemble.

A part of her wished Harold were awake to see the charming picture she presented – the heightened look of love and longing in his eyes whenever she took extra care with her appearance always sent her heart racing. Moving to where her husband lay sleeping, she studied him with quiet sadness.

He had burrowed under the blanket she had left for him, but his lean legs still jutted out from beneath the cover. He had opted to wear his black socks to bed – no doubt in an effort to stave off the evening chill that managed to creep into the room despite the fire in the hearth. One arm had been flung over his eyes, his fingers dangling loosely over his cheek. A few stray locks of hair lay mutinously across his forehead. Marian reached down and gently wound the soft brown curl around her finger. Harold was beautiful. She couldn't deny that. Her eyes closed in muted pain.

 _If only that woman hadn't appeared_ , she reflected sadly. Constance had ruined everything. With a heavy sigh, Marian released the lock of hair and reached forward to stroke Harold's cheek, but stopped herself at the last moment. It wouldn't to do rouse him. She wasn't ready to face her husband's repentant pleas just yet. With an uneasy breath, she realized she was unsure as to when she would.

Stepping to the door, she slipped into her warm, winter coat and slid on her gloves. After fastening them at the wrist, she gave Harold's slumbering form one final glance and then left, the door closing softly behind her.

XXX

When Harold Hill woke up, his first disoriented thought was that the bed had become quite uncomfortable. He didn't remember it being so cramped the first evening he and Marian had slept in it. But now, for some reason, his body was stiff and ached. Hoping to loosen the tight muscles in his back, he stretched his arms above his head and flexed his toes. As he did so, he attempted to roll over to the other side of the bed, not yet remembering he had slept on the couch the night before.

A moment later, he found himself unceremoniously sprawled on the floor, one arm situated underneath the small table in the center of the room, while his left leg dangled from the arm of the couch. His face, firmly planted against the rug on the floor, smarted from the hard impact, and he couldn't stop himself from muttering a curse as he gingerly picked himself up from the floor.

As Harold looked around the bedroom in confusion, realization slowly dawned upon him, and he recalled the previous evening. A vague prick of irritation lanced through him when he remembered Marian hadn't even given an opportunity to explain what had happened, but Harold quickly quelled it as the memory of her crestfallen expression and stifled sobs came back to him. He felt his heart wrench in guilt and shame. Ever since Harold had chosen to stay in River City, he was occasionally haunted by the nagging thought that a man such as he didn't deserve the pure and unconditional love of a woman like Marian Paroo. He grimaced as the unsettling reminder danced through his thoughts once again. It wasn't often Harold Hill harbored regret, but he suddenly found himself wishing he could revisit the past and change certain decisions.

With a heavy sigh, he trudged to the washroom, lacking the motivation to indulge in the usual cheery tune he hummed every morning. Marian was gone, and there was no point in following after her. By choosing to let him sleep, she had communicated, in no uncertain terms, that she was not ready to discuss the events that had occurred. It would be best to leave her be. For now.

As he shut the door with a heavy hand and heart, Harold considered the day that lay ahead. Suddenly, the sights and sounds Des Moines had to offer didn't seem so exciting. Not without Marian. He picked up his razor, even as his brow furrowed in sadness when he realized his day would most likely be spent in the company of his own silence. Before he came to River City, the same silence had often been his only companion as he rode the rails out of town, traveling to the next sleepy city on his list. Although he had once welcomed the solitude as a time to reflect on the success of his con and plot out the details of the next one, he now realized he had been foolishly deceiving himself. Silence was golden. That was what his mother had always told him whenever he'd been too rambunctious for her liking. And at one time in his life, he believed it. But since he'd met Marian and discovered the sweet sounds of her love and laughter, he realized he no longer found his former friend as inviting. He couldn't bear to spend the day alone with his troubled conscience. Raising the blade to the stubble covering his cheek, Harold pondered the merit of returning to the small saloon he had visited the night before. Suddenly, the stout Kentucky bourbon looked quite inviting.

XXX

The biting winter chill pervaded the warmth of Marian's coat as she made her way through the streets of Des Moines. She had walked for more than an hour, wandering aimlessly down the sidewalks that lined the city, and she was finding it difficult to reign in her jumbled thoughts. It didn't help that she continually kept finding herself on the receiving end of several admiring glances when a solitary gentleman would happen to pass by. Initially, her first impulse was to be offended at the men's unmitigated gall, but then she remembered with the thick gloves covering her hands, the solicitous men would have no way of knowing she wore a wedding band. Once again, she felt a pang of sadness stab through her. Had Harold been by her side, it would be a moot point. Her husband's quiet, yet clearly evident, possessive air had been a most-effective ward against unwanted attentions during their courtship, and she had no doubt it would still prove so.

The thought instantly called to mind a trip she and Harold had taken shortly before their marriage. With the ceremony only two weeks away, Harold had come to Marian one evening in an unusually-frustrated mood. The librarian had been surprised to see him out of sorts, as her fiancé was usually quite unflappable. However, Marian knew even the coolest of individuals had their moments, so she had simply taken Harold by the hand, set him down on the nearest library bench and asked what was the matter. When he explained his cause for concern, Marian had to bite her lip lest she laugh and further inflame the situation. Her music professor, orchestrator of grandiose schemes and meticulous to a fault, was riled up over his inability to find a proper chair for their home in River City.

Although she was quick to offer several suggestions of items they had seen during the past few weeks, Harold was adamant they find a comfortable chair for the study before their wedding and ultimately that a trip to Davenport was in order. When Marian realized there was no way to talk him out of his idea – once Harold settled his mind on something, he passionately pursued it until he attained it – she had wisely suggested they invite her mother. Harold, who remembered Mrs. Paroo had wistfully mentioned she wished River City had the luxuries that surrounding cities had to offer, quickly agreed and did so once he had seen Marian safely home. The older woman had eagerly accepted the invitation and the next day, the four of them had set off for Davenport for an afternoon of shopping. While Winthrop and his mother explored the exquisite offerings of Von Maur, Marian and Harold opted to find the chair and then take a light lunch at a small restaurant nearby. The couple was just about to enter the Iowa Lunch Room when Harold realized he had forgotten his hat.

"I thought my ears were cold!" he grinned when he reached up to remove it before entering the establishment. Smiling ruefully, Harold motioned for Marian to step inside. "Why don't you wait where it's warm while I go back and find it," he suggested.

Chuckling at the dubious look she gave him, he reached down and caught her hand in his. Harold knew that although Marian had no difficulty speaking her mind and was quite adventurous in many respects, the thought of navigating a larger city alone was a bit daunting. Still, he didn't deem it necessary for her to accompany back to the store merely for the sake of his hat, so he felt it best she stay there rather than brave the chill with him. Giving her his most-winning smile, he leaned in closer and allowed his lips to lightly brush her ear as he spoke.

"Go ahead, darling. There's no reason for you to endure the cold again. I'll only be a minute," he promised.

"Are you certain?" she asked, a teasing glint in her eyes, but Harold could hear the uncertainty in her voice. Reaching down, he squeezed her hand lightly and nodded.

"Why don't you go ahead and find us a table? Then, when I get back, we can order our meals and you can tell me about the ideas you have for our reception."

At this, Marian brightened considerably, and Harold inwardly congratulated himself. Although his fiancée was one of the most sensible and level-headed women he'd ever known, she'd taken on an almost-exuberant glee in planning their wedding. Harold had been charmed by the excitement with which she'd approached the occasion, and he was happy to see the mention of their reception allay her hesitation. Giving her a final kiss on her mitten-covered hand, he waited until Marian had entered the restaurant before turning up the collar of his coat and thrusting his hands in his pockets as he made his way back to the store to retrieve his forgotten hat.

XXX

As Marian threaded her way through the crowded establishment, she was greeted by the tantalizing aromas of pot roast, mashed potatoes and apple cobbler. The room was bustling with activity and after several glances, she didn't see any available tables. Sighing in good-natured defeat, she opted for a seat at the counter near the large café window to wait until Harold returned. Perhaps then, something might be free.

As the din of the crowd wafted through the restaurant, Marian was content to sit and observe the couples and families seated around her. It was obviously a popular location, as evidenced by the lack of seating, and she found herself enjoying the bits and pieces of conversation that floated across the room to where she sat. As she listened with a curious ear, a man, whom she judged to be near her age, sidled alongside her and flashed a debonair grin.

"Hello," he greeted.

Marian gave a polite nod. "Hello."

The blonde stranger tilted his head toward her and smiled engagingly. "I don't believe I've seen you here before."

Marian couldn't help returning his sincere smile, and it surprised her. In the past, she would have brushed the man off with a frosty dismissal, but now she found herself willing to at least exchange pleasantries. Perhaps Harold's winning personality and affable manner had influenced her more than she realized.

"No," she allowed, "this is my first visit."

"Really? To the lunch room or to Davenport?"

"The Lunch Room." Her tone was still politely cool, but she let a hint of warmth to seep into her voice when the stranger's eyes widened in disbelief. "But, I haven't been to Davenport since I was a young girl."

"Well, it wasn't too long ago then, I'd wager," he laughed and extended a hand. "I'm Donald Ruebsam."

Somewhat startled by his bold compliment, Marian hesitantly offered her hand. Donald quickly took it and gave it a firm squeeze, which she found oddly amusing. His outgoing and somewhat flirtatious manner instantly reminded her of Harold, and she inwardly smiled. He could never meet a stranger, either, and his cheeky personality had been attractive from the very beginning, although she would never have admitted that to him back then. Emboldened by this realization and reasonably sure that Mr. Ruebsam was relatively harmless, she gave him a genuine smile and responded in kind.

"Marian Paroo. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Donald beamed and propped an arm on the counter. "The pleasure is all mine, _Miss_ Paroo." The questioning note placed on Miss didn't escape Marian, but Donald continued before she could correct his misperception. "My family owns the Lunch Room, so I'm usually here every day. That's how I knew I hadn't seen you before."

"Oh how interesting," she murmured, suddenly eager to impart the knowledge that she was engaged woman to Mr. Ruebsam. But, he quickly began speaking again, eager to know where she was from and what brought her to Davenport. Sighing inwardly, she patiently answered his questions, all the while hoping Harold would find his hat and return … quickly.

XXX

Harold Hill was garnering amused stares from his fellow pedestrians. The music professor paid them no mind and continued to whistle a cheerful tune as he ambled along the snow-covered sidewalk. He was delighted to discover his hat exactly where he remembered setting it earlier that morning while perusing an oak chair at JP Aments Pianos and Furniture. He'd intended to retrieve it as he and Marian prepared to leave the store, but had been distracted when he heard Marian utter an exclamation of delight. When he turned to her, he was swept away by the expression of wonder that illuminated Marian's face as she stared longingly at the Steinway grand piano in the far corner of the room. His hat forgotten on a nearby pine dresser, Harold had immediately taken his place by her side as she lovingly ran her hands along the smooth keys. After obtaining permission from a nearby sales clerk, Marian began playing an evocative rendition of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" (her favorite piece she'd confided to Harold early on in their courtship). Harold had stood, spellbound, as she played, listening to the rapturous music swell and crescendo before tapering into a haunting echo as the last note died away.

The beaming smile she'd given him when he casually mentioned that perhaps someday he could afford something like for their house had caused his heart to skip a beat. But when she'd leaned closer and shyly whispered that she needed only him for their home to be complete, it took everything ounce of control Harold possessed not to take her in his arms right there in the middle of the store. Somehow, he didn't think Mr. Aments would be amenable to seeing him and his librarian engage in a passionate display in such a public setting, no matter how enjoyable it might for the parties involved.

Laughing aloud, Harold grinned at the reaction his dear little piano teacher would no doubt have at such a suggestion. He could almost hear the amused scolding that would surely have been given had he voiced his thoughts to Marian. Still, he reflected, it might merit his mentioning it simply to see her endearing blush – something he loved dearly – brighten her cheeks.

With that in mind, he peered through the Lunch Room searching for Marian. After a moment, his eyes landed on her impeccable form standing near the counter at the far end of the establishment, and his heart skipped a beat. Her loveliness captivated him. Even in something as mundane as waiting for him, Marian still managed to take his breath away. He shook his head. It was amazing the effect one woman could have on him. But as he continued to watch her, he realized she was engaged in conversation with the gentleman standing beside her. The man was obviously near her age. His tawny blonde hair was swept back in the latest style, but had been casually tousled by the newsboy cap he held at his side. There was no doubt the man presented the picture of elegance – his sleek gray suit was cut sharply to his form and a black-and-white striped tie, knotted expertly around his neck and snugly sitting above a darker charcoal, stood out in sharp contrast to the crisp white collar of the dress shirt he wore. Harold inwardly winced as he realized his once-impeccable wardrobe might need to be updated a bit to stay abreast of current fashions. There hadn't been as much of a need to do so once he'd settled in River City, but now, he felt decidedly out of his element.

Continuing to observe their conversation, Harold's brow furrowed in concern. He didn't know who this young upstart was, but he instantly recognized the gleam of masculine attraction in his eyes. After all, he knew it well enough, especially when it came to Marian Paroo. The usurper's body language clearly demonstrated an avid interest in Marian, and he didn't like it. Not one bit. Harold felt an unfamiliar sensation coiling in his stomach and with a start, realized he was experiencing a disturbing rush of jealously. He was suddenly acutely aware of the age difference between him and Marian, although it had never really been a concern before. The citizens of River City had given the couple their blessing early on, and no one thought the May-December romance odd. Certainly, Harold did not act his forty two years. One evening, after a particularly-involved scavenger hunt, Marian had confided to him that sometimes even she had trouble keeping up with his crazy schemes. Harold, who was still full of energy after the two-hour search, had merely laughed and took her in arms, affectionately covering her face in kisses. When he finally released his dazed bride-to-be, he assured her he had no doubts as to her ability to keep pace.

Harold might have continued worrying about the situation had Marian not taken a slight step backward in an obvious effort to put some distance between herself and the young man. When Harold saw that, he felt his heart swell and every doubt that had been trying to worm its way into his mind instantly disappeared. Of course she wasn't attracted to him. Above all else, Marian Paroo was faithful. When she gave him her heart, she had done so completely. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him for having the audacity to doubt her for even one moment, but quickly pushed it aside, intent on returning to Marian's side and establishing his presence.

His confidence restored, Harold hurriedly stepped inside and weaved through the crowded room before quietly sidling next to his fiancée and unobtrusively reaching down to lace his fingers through hers. He felt Marian gave a small start when his hand wrapped around hers, but she quickly relaxed when she realized it was him.

"Hello, darling," he greeted her warmly. "I found my hat."

He watched as Marian's eyes flickered to his head and then back down, her mouth curving into a smile. "So I see."

She turned to the man next to her, and inclined her head. "Harold, this is Donald Ruebsam. His family owns this restaurant." Although her words were imbued with an air of politeness, he knew his librarian well enough to hear the minute trace of aloofness her tone carried. Donald Ruebsam, however, appeared oblivious to it. Harold smiled wolfishly: he would remedy that. Nonchalantly, he brought his and Marian's clasped hands to countertop, the engagement ring on her hand sparkling brightly as the sunlight played across it.

Harold watched with smug satisfaction as the young man's eyes darted down and then back up, consternation rapidly spreading across his features. Harold flashed him a wide smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Pleasure to meet you, son."

The subtle inflection wasn't lost on Donald, and Harold was pleased to see his carefully-chosen appellation had the desired effect. With a polite nod and hastened reply, Donald greeted him and then quickly wished Marian a good day before hurriedly excusing himself.

Harold kept his eyes fixed on the man's retreating form, until he was satisfied Donald would not be returning. When he turned back to Marian, she greeted him with a sly smile, and he could almost swear he spied a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Madam Librarian?" he questioned, his own expression the epitome of innocence.

"Professor Hill," she returned, arching an eyebrow at him, clearly waiting for him to elaborate.

Harold merely smiled and then plucked for a menu from the counter, casually perusing the selections. He knew Marian was still watching – he could feel her gaze trained on him – but he took his time, occasionally making an approving sound when he found a particularly delectable dish.

"Harold Hill, it does not take a man that long to choose a sandwich."

He turned to see Marian frowning at him in amused frustration. Grinning, he lowered the menu and leaned in closer. "Miss Marian, is that a note of annoyance I hear?"

Marian smirked at him, but before Harold could ask why, he felt her shoe land squarely against his shin. "Ouch!" he yelped, staring at her in shock.

"Annoyance?" she echoed with a sweetly-innocent smile. Why yes, Professor, I believe it is." Marian shook her head, sighing as she did so. "Honestly, Harold, you're as bad as Winthrop."

Harold furrowed his brown in confusion. He wasn't sure what Marian had wanted to say to him, but he hadn't expected to be compared to her younger brother. "Winthrop? Marian, what are you talking about?"

"Yes. Winthrop. As much as he pretends to want nothing to do with Amaryllis, he instantly becomes jealous when any other boy comes near her," Marian explained.

Harold felt the corners of his mouth lift in a smile. "Ah, I see." He glanced to the far side of the room where Donald had retreated. "And you think I'm jealous of your new friend over there?"

"He's not my friend," Marian retorted. She leveled a stare at him, silently daring him to deny it, before agreeing to his earlier question. "But yes, in fact, I do."

Harold gazed thoughtfully for a moment, pondering her words. As he did, his eyes slowly traveled down and then back up, brazenly admiring her lithe form. When his eyes met hers, he was delighted to see a warm blush coloring her cheeks. Nodding in agreement, he brought her palm to his lips and placed a tender kiss on the smooth skin there. "Perhaps I am."

Marian smiled softly, but Harold glimpsed a touch of sadness in her eyes as she did. "You have no cause to be, Harold." Her words with spoken with the slightest hint of quiet reproach.

"I know that, Marian," he assured her, his playful grin disappearing as a look of seriousness stole across his countenance. Harold tightened his hand around hers. "Believe me, I do."

As Marian continued to gaze steadily at him, Harold found himself averting his eyes, suddenly quite self-conscious. Biting his lower lip in contemplation, he was silent for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. When he looked again at Marian, she was quietly waiting, her expression tender but uncertain.

"Marian, I have never doubted your loyalty or affection." He raised her hand and tenderly pressed his lips against it. "If I said something to make you think otherwise, I apologize. If anything, it's you who should have cause to voice the concerns you suggest." His eyes brightened with emotion. "Not a day passes by that I don't wonder how you were able to look past the conman and see the good inside."

Marian's gaze dropped and an embarrassed smile crept across her features. "Well," she said softly, "it wasn't hidden too deeply." Sighing, she raised her gaze to his. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Harold."

Harold laughed, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze. "My dear little librarian, I think we both know that's certainly not the case!" he chuckled and was pleased when Marian joined in his laughter. As she shook her head in mock defeat, Harold placed the menu next to her. "Well, now that we've gotten that straight, what say we eat and then we'll go find your mother and Winthrop?"

XXX

Marian wasn't certain how long she had wandered aimlessly through Des Moines, but judging from the rumbling of her stomach, it had been several hours. A brief stop at a diner allowed her to satisfy her hunger, although she barely tasted what she was eating. She was well aware of the shuttered glances cast her way by the patrons seated around her. Although this would've usually bothered the librarian, she was too involved in her thoughts to care. All she could focus on was Harold, the woman from his past and what that meant for her own future. After quickly paying for her meal – thank goodness for the small sum Mama had pressed in her hand shortly before she and Harold boarded the train – Marian resumed her walk. She had no specific plan of where she was going. She simply needed to think. Although with all the twists and turns of the city streets, a map would have been useful. Recalling the ease with which Harold had navigated the city a day earlier, Marian realized she never thought to ask him how often he had visited Des Moines. This was quickly followed by the disturbing realization that the answer was obviously fairly often, if Constance was any indication. She sighed.

A turn around a familiar corner brought her into an open expanse, and she was startled to find that she had subconsciously navigated her way back to the city library. As she stood there, staring at the imposing landmark, Marian felt a warmth seep through her as she remembered the obvious effort Harold had put into their honeymoon. During his trip here in November, long before he'd proposed to her, he had taken painstaking care to research restaurants and shops he knew would capture her interest. And his proposal … the thoughtful planning and careful structuring of his schedule the week leading up to that wonderful night in the library – all of these things pointed to a man who was obviously besotted.

As the burgeoning awareness dawned on her, Marian was startled to discover her previous anger and hurt was slowly beginning to dissipate. Harold had turned his back on a life filled with travel and adventure to settle in a sleepy town like River City. He had established a legitimate business, purchased a home – all these things simply so he could ask for her hand. A sense of peace blossomed within her. Harold had chosen a future with her over his former life. When Marian had first fully realized the love she held for Harold Hill and decided her life would be with him, she spent several hours contemplating everything that entailed. Acknowledging his unsavory past – one filled with schemes and other women – had been unpleasant, and she knew, someday, she would eventually have to reconcile herself to that idea. Sadly, she didn't realize it would be so soon, but in a way, she was glad it had happened. Now that she had been forced to confront the undesirable facets of her husband's history, the dark specter of uncertainty was no longer looming in the background of their life together.


	8. Reconciliation

_The Good-Morrow_

_I wonder by my troth, what thou and I_  
Did, till we loved? were we not wean'd till then?  
But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly?  
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den?  
'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be;  
If ever any beauty I did see,  
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee. 

_And now good-morrow to our waking souls,_  
Which watch not one another out of fear;  
For love all love of other sights controls,  
And makes one little room an everywhere.  
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone;  
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown;  
Let us possess one world; each hath one, and is one. 

_My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,_  
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;  
Where can we find two better hemispheres  
Without sharp north, without declining west ?  
Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally;  
If our two loves be one, or thou and I  
Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die. 

_John Donne_

XXX

The afternoon had been a long and lonely one for Harold Hill. Although several patrons at the saloon were eager enough to talk, Harold had shied away from conversation and, instead, focused on his own thoughts. He knew he needed to talk with Marian. One night away from his wife had convinced him of that. He shook his head in amusement. He'd only awakened next to her once, but that one time was enough – he wanted to see his wife sleeping beside him every morning. The thought of that not happening was unpleasant and one he didn't care to entertain.

Now, as he made his way back to the hotel, Harold found himself once again reflecting on Marian and her obvious distress. He didn't know what he was going to say to his wife when he saw her, but he knew he owed her some form of an apology. Making his way into the lobby and up the stairway, he experienced a pang of nerves as he approached the door to their room. After spending an entire day with only his thoughts, Harold wasn't sure what kind of reception he would receive. Perhaps he should not have left and instead waited on Marian to return, but the idea of sitting alone in an empty bridal suite had been too much for him.

As the door quietly opened, he was greeted by darkness. Looking around, he gave a sigh of disappointment. Marian still hadn't returned. He wondered if he should be alarmed by her absence, but quickly dismissed his worry. Marian was a sensible woman. She would have stayed in public areas. Perhaps she simply needed some time with her thoughts as he had. Hoping that was the case, he closed the door behind him and made his way through the darkness to the washroom. After a day spent in a smoke-filled room, he felt dirty. The idea of cool, clean water splashing across his skin sounded appealing, but when he stood before the wash basin mirror, an unfamiliar face greeted him. Ever since he'd been old enough to pick up a razor (and a few times before he was old enough), Harold had prided himself on maintaining a clean appearance. He could easily count the number of instances when he'd forgone his morning ritual of shaving. Given his former occupation, he'd also spent many an evening in front of the washroom mirror making himself presentable for his latest conquest. But this morning, he had been in no mood to indulge in his daily ritual. The man that stared back at him was quite unfamiliar. Thick stubble covered his face, and his immaculate hair was disheveled and flat. Turning away from his reflection, he decided to simply change into his robe and forgo shaving.

He'd made it to the door when he was stopped by a stray memory. Marian had been nestled in his arms after one of their more amorous strolls to the footbridge. The evening was cool, and Harold had taken advantage of the chill by gathering his librarian closer to him and resting his cheek against hers. He could remember the sound of her soft breathing and then her hesitant question as to what lotion he used when shaving. When he'd told her, Marian had buried her face into his neck and murmured her bold affection for it. Harold's heart had almost stopped with sheer longing at such a declaration, and from that night forward, Harold made a point to always take the time to apply his shaving lotion before visiting his little librarian.

Returning to stare at his reflection once more, he came to a decision. Marian was bound to return tonight. After all, she had no other place to stay. As such, it would behoove him to present a clean appearance when his wife eventually returned. A wan smile flitted across his face as he realized it also wouldn't hurt to apply the fragrance of which she was so fond.

When Harold emerged from the washroom several minutes later, he made his way to the fireplace and stoked the glowing coals until they began to burn brighter. He added two logs to the small flames, and waited until he saw a healthy flame emerge. Deciding the fire would make a nightshirt unnecessary, he shed his clothing and donned his robe, then moved to the dresser where he retrieved a small, leather-bound volume from the top drawer before retiring to the chair.

Leafing through the pages, Harold was reminded of the bittersweet October afternoon when Marian had given him the collected love poems of John Donne before he boarded his train. It had been difficult to leave her and come to Des Moines for two weeks, even if it had been a wonderful opportunity to gain inventory for his fledgling emporium. But knowing he would be unable to express his parting sentiments in such a public setting as the depot, he chose to visit his librarian at her home the evening before he departed. After Mrs. Paroo retired to the kitchen and Harold persuaded Marian to join him outside on the swing, he took advantage of the opportunity and swept his lovely piano teacher into his arms to give her a thorough and proper goodbye. Those stolen kisses and the memory of her soft sighs had sustained him during his absence from his little librarian, but upon his return, he'd headed straight to her home on West Elm to make up for lost time. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he recalled the fetching ensemble that had greeted him when she opened the door.

But Harold's smile quickly faded when he turned the page and saw the familiar words of The Good-Morrow. It had been one of his earliest readings of the collected works. The page was dog-eared, something he knew would horrify Marian if she ever discovered it, but the poem had strongly resonated with him, and Harold wanted to find it quickly whenever he fancied reading it. This particular piece had prominently figured in his nightly readings. As he spent his evenings alone in an empty hotel room – evenings that too sharply recalled the loneliness of his former life – he had pored over the sentiments conveyed through Donne's words countless times. It had been on his third lonely evening, Harold realized, with startling clarity, he'd found the only woman he would ever want to marry. He – a jaded conman who had built a life by betting on people's gullibility – was ready to take the biggest gamble of them all. Marriage. For a self-professed bachelor of 42 years, it had been a jarring reality to acknowledge. But as the idea settled into his heart, he realized building a life with Marian was all that mattered to him. Once he had accepted the truth as fact, his loneliness had vanished and, true to form, he set out to make his desire a reality. When he read the words again in the evenings that followed, he found comfort and peace from the writings.

But now, as his eyes traveled over the familiar passage, his heart constricted. He had been apart from Marian when he'd first discovered the poem. It was sadly fitting that now, even though she was with him, a gulf still separated them.

With a heavy sigh, Harold lifted the heavy decanter from the nearby table and poured a large glass of the Kentucky bourbon he'd brought back from saloon. Downing a generous portion, he continued to reread the passage until his eyes grew heavy and the volume fell to his lap as he slowly succumbed to sleep.

XXX

Twilight had fully settled upon Des Moines when Marian finally returned to the Hotel Randolph. The darkness of the evening, which had draped in her silence, quickly vanished when she stepped inside the main doors and the evening's revelry spilled out from the parlor in to the lobby. She could hear raucous laughter and music coming from within the room, and she was momentarily tempted to take a peek and see if Harold was in there. But after a moment's consideration, she decided better of it. If Harold was there, she didn't think she'd be able to face him with so many strangers nearby listening to their conversation. It would be best to return to their room and wait. As she ascended the stairway, nervous worries darted through her mind. Would Harold be waiting on her? If so, would he be amenable to talking? After all, she had made him sleep on the couch. That was certain to not have set well with her husband, even if he had respected her wishes and not joined her last night. If he were willing to talk, what would he say? Would he be angry? Dismissing her fears, she forced herself to be reasonable. Worrying about what Harold may or may not say would accomplish nothing. There was only one way to gain answers to her questions. Taking a deep breath, Marian squared her shoulders and opened the door. The room was dark, save for the flickering illumination of fire crackling in the hearth. The flames cast a muted orange glow, and she could spy the outline of someone in the chair: Harold.

Relieved that her husband was indeed there, Marian closed the door gently behind her and softly called his name. But when she failed to receive a response, she moved toward the fire, concerned; however, her worry quickly faded when she realized her husband was fast asleep. It wasn't often she'd been given the opportunity to watch him unawares before their marriage, so she took advantage of the moment. As she quietly studied him, her heart constricted. His brow was furrowed in what appeared to be a fitful sleep, and his lips moved in silent conversation. She felt a pang of regret lance through her, knowing she was the cause of his distress.

Leaning closer to him, Marian ran her palm along his cheek in an effort to allay his worries, and was surprised to feel the smooth evidence of a recent shave. Her heart skipped a beat when she inhaled deeply and was greeted by the heady scent of his shaving lotion. She had spent many a silent evening in bed, recalling the scent that was so uniquely Harold and dreaming of the day when it would greet her every morning. Watching him now, hair disarrayed and bare legs and feet peeking out from beneath the hem of his robe as the scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, Marian was startled to discover how truly alluring her husband was in such a disheveled state. Outside of yesterday morning and the one afternoon they had worked to prepare their future home, she had never witnessed her husband as anything less than impeccably dressed. Her pulse increased when she realized he wore no night shirt under his robe – the heat of the fireplace evidently being enough to warm him. Suddenly, Marian wanted nothing more than to wake her husband and confess how much she had missed him. She stepped closer to do just that, but stopped short when she noticed a book in his lap.

Bending down, she retrieved it and opened the cover, immediately recognizing the familiar handwriting inside as her own. Tears began to fill her eyes as she realized he had been reading the book of Love Poems she'd given to him shortly before their engagement. Harold had been traveling to Des Moines, and Marian, bereft at the thought of being parted from him for the first time, wanted to communicate her love for him in a meaningful yet subtle way. The collection of poems had seemed the ideal solution. Marian had spent hours poring over what to write on the inside cover, but eventually, she'd settled on a simple inscription. The carefully-selected, "Yours, Marian" had been a bold move for her, but when Harold had appeared on her doorstep – direct from his late-night train – and taken her in his arms, she knew it had been the correct choice. She had known Harold appreciated the book, but hadn't realized how much he obviously treasured it. For him to bring it with him on their honeymoon spoke volumes. Her eyes slid shut as she was reminded that she still had much to learn about her husband. Reopening them, she pondered this and watched Harold as his chest rose and fell with his steady breathing. The worry of the day had taken its toll of him. The dark circles beneath his eyes testified to that. She hated to disturb his slumber now that it had become somewhat calmer, but she didn't want to spend another evening away from him. Last night had been lonely enough.

Deciding to follow her husband's lead and change into her own dressing gown before waking him, she turned to place the book on the end table and was shocked to discover a half-empty decanter of a brown liquid already sitting there. During their courtship, she had never seen Harold indulge in so much as a sip of alcohol. For him to do so now was a stark indication of how distraught he was by their argument. Leaning over, she sniffed it, wrinkling her nose in disgust when she realized it was bourbon. She recognized it from the bourbon her father used to drink when she was a little girl. He had always kept a decanter in the parlor and once, he had let her take a sip. She'd pursed her lips in disgust, much to her father's amusement, and then imperiously demanded a glass of lemonade afterwards.

Her earlier apprehension fading, a warm emotion washed over Marian as she realized her husband shared the same affinity for her father's drink. Although Papa and Harold were very different men, every day she was discovering more similarities between the two. She smiled wistfully, wishing Harold could have met Papa, and knowing that eventually, her father would have wholeheartedly approved of the man who had won her heart.

Observing her husband with fond affection, Marian knew that had she not already forgiven her husband and comes to terms with his past, she would be unable to cling to her anger after witnessing the obvious heartbreak he had gone through while she was absent.

She smiled to herself: they were truly a pair. Her heart swelled with an almost painful longing. She couldn't imagine a life without Harold – no matter what his past may be. Gazing at her husband a moment longer, Marian quietly placed the book on the end table and moved to the wardrobe, quietly extracting her nightgown and robe before retiring to the bathroom.

XXX

After quickly changing into her nighttime attire and arranging her blonde tresses around her shoulders, Marian emerged from the washroom and softly crept to where Harold still sat sleeping. His sleep had become peaceful, and she was glad to see the earlier worry that had been etched across his features was now absent.

Kneeling before him, she reached forward and threaded her fingers through his while reaching upward with her other hand to gently stroke a mutinous curl that had fallen over his forehead.

"Harold," she gently called.

He stirred, but did not wake.

"Darling," she tried again, her hand caressing the side of his face. "Darling, wake up." She watched as Harold slowly opened his eyes, seeming somewhat disoriented by his surroundings. But they quickly came into focus when he saw found her standing there before him.

"Marian!" he exclaimed, startled. "What are you doing … I thought … that is, I didn't …"

Marian patiently waited as Harold made several unsuccessful attempts to speak before finally giving up and simply staring at her with honest, but guarded, eyes. She smiled lovingly at him in what she hoped was an encouraging manner, but Harold remained silent, watching her with obvious apprehension.

Raising herself from the floor, she gazed at him in frank consideration. The librarian could discern the confusion dancing behind her husband's candid gaze as he quietly bore her scrutiny, and her heart constricted at the sight of Harold sitting so cautiously before her. The usually confident and effusive salesman was hesitant and reserved – it was evident he was nervous of what she had to say. Sadness coursed through her as she realized her earlier actions had contributed to his discomfort. If she wanted to make any headway with Harold, she would need to do something to pry him away from the cautious nature he'd suddenly adopted. Making a swift decision, Marian swiftly settled herself on Harold's lap and wound her arms around his neck. When his eyes widened in shock at her actions, she knew she had his complete attention and took advantage of the opportunity. Her words, when they came, were soft and considered, but nonetheless, firm.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, Harold, but I needed the time to think and gather my thoughts."

Harold nodded, but still gazed at her cautiously. "And were you able to gather them?"

Marian nodded. "I was," she murmured and then bowed her head slightly. "I owe you an apology," she whispered.

Harold instantly interrupted her. "No Marian, you owe me nothing. It's I who owe you an apology." His voice tapered away and when he spoke again, his eyes carried a sad quality that lanced through her heart. "Marian, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, but I can't change my past, no matter how much I may want to." His shoulders slumped in an uncharacteristic display of defeat, as if he expected her to admonish him for this inexorable but unpalatable truth . "I can't."

Marian responded with compassionate understanding. "I know that, Harold, and it was selfish of me to be angry at you for something you did before I was ever in your life."

Harold shook his head in immediate disagreement. "No, Marian, you had every right. If I hadn't -"

Marian laid a warm finger against his lips, halting his protest. "Darling, you're not going to emerge victorious in this argument." The impish smile she gave him belied the tenor of her words, and a tender look stole into her eyes as she watched the tension slowly disappear from his gaze. "As I said, I spent a good deal of my day thinking," she informed him and removed her hand.

"Oh?" Harold questioned, raising an eyebrow at her. It was apparent to her that he still didn't quite trust that she had forgiven him.

"And I came to a startling conclusion," she admitted, giving him a wry smile.

Harold continued to gaze at her. "And what might that be?"

"I realized that it was foolish of me to be angry over someone from your past. You didn't know me then, and I didn't know you. So yes, I do owe you an apology."

Raising a hand again, Marian placed it gently against his lips, effectively halting his renewed argument, and smiled lovingly at him. "It was wrong of me to hold you accountable to react as I did for something that happened long before you ever met me."

Marian watched Harold's eyes fill with a guarded hope and continued, "As much as it pained me to see someone from your past with whom you'd been intimate, it made me realize something. Although there have been other women in your life, you chose me."

Harold feverishly clasped her hands and pulled them tightly to his chest. "Marian, there were other women before you, but I can assure you, there will never be another woman after you."

Marian regarded him with tear-filled eyes. His stark admission and heartfelt promise sent a wave of relief cascading through her, washing away her fears and pain. "I believe you, Harold," she assured him. Silence followed as she studied her husband. The earlier disbelief that had clouded his eyes slowly faded, and Marian was delighted to see a cautious joy begin to stir as he continued to gaze at her. But when he still didn't respond, she allowed a playful smile to spread across her features, then leveled a challenging stare at him. "If I'm not mistaken, Professor, I believe this is the part where you take me in your arms and concede defeat."

Marian had to smother her laughter when Harold's eyes widened in amazement. For a moment, it looked as if he didn't know how to reply to Marian's bold suggestion. But true to form, he recovered quickly and wrapped his arms around his wife, nestling her against him.

"I suppose if I must," he sighed dramatically and then gazed at her with evident affection. "I know I've told you this before, but Madam Librarian, you are a lady from the ground up."

Now, Marian couldn't contain the laughter that bubbled over at his cheeky comment. Rolling her eyes in mock exasperation, she leaned closer and laid her head against Harold's chest. She listened as the rhythmic beating of his heart softly thudded beneath her ear. When his hands begin to trace lazy circles across her back, she closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. This was how she had envisioned her honeymoon to be – wrapped in her husband's embrace and secure in the knowledge of his love and devotion to her. When she felt Harold shift and pull her tightly against him, she couldn't help recall her words to him on the train.

 _A lifetime to discover all the joys and happiness marriage would bring_.

Her heart began to race to when she realized that they truly did have a lifetime together. Harold must have felt her pulse increase, because he leaned back and gazed at her with questioning eyes. Unable to voice the myriad of thoughts racing through her mind, Marian lifted her face and captured her husband's lips with hers, communicating the love and affection she felt for him through her kiss.

"Marian," Harold murmured as he broke away and shifted in the chair.

"Mmm?"

"I think we'd be far more comfortable in our bed," he suggested softly. His hands moved lower and caressed her hips through the smooth silk of her gown. Marian could feel the heat from his fingertips seep past the thin material, and she shuddered at her husband's tender touch.

"I think we would, too," she agreed breathlessly. Raising her head, she saw the heated desire she knew mirrored her own reflected in Harold's eyes. As she brought her mouth to his, her arms encircled his neck, molding her body to him. She felt his hands tighten around her hips when she shifted on his lap. Feeling decidedly bold, Marian moved again, slowly and deliberately this time, and was rewarded when Harold suddenly stood up, his arm settling behind her knees even as his other wrapped around her waist. Without breaking their kiss, he whisked her across the room until they stood by their bed. Gently lowering Marian to the floor, he brought her to stand before him and, confidence restored, smiled roguishly at her as he moved his hand to the sash of her robe and began to slowly undo the loose knot.

"Mrs. Hill, if I may be so bold," he grinned playfully.

Marian arched an eyebrow at him in return, giggling when she felt Harold open her robe and tenderly push it away from her shoulders. She sensed his eyes upon her as he reached down and casually draped it across the chair by the bed. He then turned back to her with serious eyes and brought his hands to the material of her gown.

"If I'm not mistaken, I don't believe you'll be needing this either," he murmured huskily and began to remove it from her.

The mood suddenly became quite serious and Marian's eyes slid shut as Harold's nimble fingers deftly undid the buttons on her gown. When the cool silk of the material fell away moments later, she shivered slightly as the chill of the night air danced across her bare skin. Harold noticed and quickly gathered her in his arms, gently lowering her to the soft mattress. When he had carefully settled her, he leaned back and gazed at her, his eyes travelling over her naked form. Marian stifled her instinctive reaction to cover herself and instead allowed her husband to study her. She could feel a heated blush rise to her cheeks at providing such a provocative display, but she also acknowledged the slight thrill that raced through her as Harold shamelessly admired her.

As Harold turned from her and removed his own robe, Marian watched him in rapt fascination. The flickering firelight cast muted shadows that danced across the planes of his body in an almost-hypnotic fashion. She had often dreamed of Harold in ways such as this, but seeing him before her was entirely different. When he returned to her side, Marian continued to gaze at him. His eyes found hers as he slid beneath the covers to lie next to her. A moment later, she felt Harold's lips brush against her ear as he gathered her close to him.

"Oh Marian, how I've missed you," he whispered softly, and Marian could hear the thread of pain in his voice.

"I know, Harold, and it was wrong of me to deny you this last night." Her voice faltered, and she averted her eyes, embarrassed.

Harold quickly quieted her, and lowered his lips to her neck, trailing soft kisses until he reached her collarbone.

"Never out of duty," he murmured. "I never want you to come to me out of obligation, darling."

Closing her eyes, Marian listened as her husband's gentle words washed over her and she sighed in contentment, allowing his kisses to carry her away while he lovingly demonstrated the sincerity of his statement. Feeling him tenderly nuzzle her neck, Marian smiled and raised a hand to graze her fingers through the soft fringe of hair on the back of his head. She giggled when she felt Harold smile against her skin then gently nip at her in a teasing manner. But his affectionate demeanor melted into an amorous one a moment later when Marian languidly trailed her bare foot up along his leg. With a groan, he rolled her beneath him and brought his hands to rest briefly against her thighs before moving them higher.

Marian's eyes fluttered open when she felt Harold's hand glide along her hip, and she met his eyes for a long moment, gazing at him, trying to discern the emotions she saw there. As he lowered his head to her breast, she continued to watch him, but a moment later, she gasped and her eyes slid shut in silent pleasure as Harold's tongue moved against her bare skin in a tender caress. When his palm closed over her other breast in a gentle caress, the librarian's breath caught in her throat. Their first time together had been more wonderful than she could have imagined, but tonight, though, it almost seemed as if Harold was communicating his apology through their lovemaking.

When he entered her a few moments later, Marian eagerly wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him towards her even as she raised her legs and wrapped them snugly around his waist, lifting herself to him. Harold met her eyes in a shocked gaze, and she knew he was surprised at her brazen gesture. On the train ride to Des Moines, he had confided that early on in their courtship, he'd realized a passionate woman lay beneath her poised demeanor, but judging from his reaction, Marian suspected her husband hadn't expected anything like this from her so soon. But as she watched, his amazement was quickly lost in a haze of desire as he began to slowly move within her. She moaned softly and raised her hips to him, intent on matching his every thrust.

As her desire mounted, Marian didn't understand how it was possible for their lovemaking to be better than before, but when Harold raised himself to peer into her eyes, she suddenly knew that it somehow was. Steadily watching her husband as he glided in and out of her, she realized they had only begun to explore their love together. A lock of hair fell over his forehead, and she reached up to brush it away from his eyes before burying her face into the crook of Harold's neck, her cries of pleasure muffled against his slick skin. Harold's heated declarations caressed her ears as she twisted in his arms, seeking something more.

"I need you, Marian," Harold whispered, his voice cracking. The loving admission, uttered in quiet honesty, proved to be too much for her: Moaning, Marian wrapped her arms around her husband and pulled him close, repeating his name as she shuddered in his arms and surrendered to pleasure. Moments later, she felt Harold tense in her embrace and cry out her name as he found his own release, his wordless moans tapering off into satiated murmurs.

As Marian quietly waited, Harold's breathing returned to the steady sounds she had become familiar with as she'd lain awake listening to him sleep on the couch . When he lifted his head to gaze at her with a satisfied smile, Marian beamed back at him and brought her mouth to his for a gentle kiss. When they parted, Harold gathered her close and placed tender kisses against her hair, sighing in contentment as she stroked her hands along his bare shoulders.

Finding solace in her husband's steady breathing, Marian realized they were going to be fine. Harold loved her, and she loved him. No doubt, there would be arguments in their future. She understood that now. But as long as they listened to one another and were willing to forgive, they would manage to find their way through them. As slumber slowly crept upon her, Marian recalled the heated words Harold had uttered against her skin. Turning in his embrace, she pressed closer to him and allowed sleep to claim her, content and secure in her husband's arms.


End file.
